


Now There Are Thoughts Like These That Keep Me On My Feet

by buckysbears (DrZebra)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bus Kids - Freeform, Cuddles, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Schmoop, discussions of brainwashing, probably not canon by next episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6698692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrZebra/pseuds/buckysbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They get Daisy back from Hive. Fitz and Jemma don't want to let her go. </p>
<p>(She doesn't want to be let go.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now There Are Thoughts Like These That Keep Me On My Feet

When Daisy sees Fitz she immediately starts crying, and she makes an aborted little motion like she wants to rush to him but she’s holding herself back. He slows from his jog and stops just inside the door of the med bay, trying to give her space, watching the way her fists ball up tight in her hospital gown. 

Jemma almost growls in frustration, because they both obviously need the reassurance of each other’s presence but neither of them are going to make a move, so instead she carefully untangles Daisy’s fist, lays a comforting hand on her shoulder, and then gives her a little shove. Daisy follows the motion until her face is buried in Fitz’s neck, a sob building in her throat, and his arms are gripping her hard, almost enough to hurt by the looks of it. 

“I’m so sorry,” she manages, her tear clogged throat muddying the words. 

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs, raising a hand to stroke her hair. “Nothing at all. I’m just happy you’re safe now.” 

“I- I _choked_ you. Oh god, Fitz, I-“

“Shh, shh, hey now, that wasn’t you, okay? It was Hive, all Hive.” 

“No.” Daisy tries to pull away, but Fitz seems reluctant to let go, so she gives up and lets her forehead rest against the harsh material of his tac suit, watching the tears drip onto it from the bridge of her nose. “It was me. I knew it would scare you, that’s why I did it. It was my idea. My choice.” 

“Do you want to now? Would you do it again?”

“No, of course not!” She looks aghast at the very suggestion. 

“Then it wasn’t you.” 

“I-“

“Look, if you don’t still want to, now that you’re not under his control, then it was never your choice to begin with.” 

“The way it infects things,” Jemma starts, wanting to soothe the torn look on Daisy’s face, wipe away the guilt she knows is eating her from the inside, “is almost exactly like a drug. You may have felt in control, perfectly rational, even, but you were being motivated by your brain’s addiction and by Hive’s will, in a capacity you couldn’t fight. You can’t be held accountable for your actions, they weren’t yours to choose.” 

Daisy stares at Jemma, eyes glistening, mouth trembling. “It feels like they were.” 

“I know,” Jemma says. 

Daisy nods, like that’s enough, and then moves closer to Fitz, hooking her fingers though the tabs on the front of his vest, sniffling quietly. Fitz holds her tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head. 

A sigh escapes Jemma much louder than she means for it to, but it’s holding all the weight of her worry for Daisy over the past week. Seeing her safe in Fitz’s arms seems to cement the situation for her more than seeing her in the hospital bed did, more than when they got her back from Hive. Now it seems real, and the emotions she’d been holding at arm’s length during their race to get Daisy back are sneaking up on her. Tears prick behind her eyes without her permission, and she pushes her fingers against the sides of her neck, squeezing against the nerves and the feeling of overwhelm. 

“Jemma?” Daisy mumbles.

“Yes?”

“C’mere?” 

Jemma walks over to them and Daisy, without looking, pushes Fitz into her so they’re all huddled close. Jemma laughs wetly and wraps herself around Daisy, nuzzling at the back of her neck. 

“Have I mentioned I’m very glad you’re back?” Jemma says, voice catching around the words. 

Daisy gives a little hum, but it’s high pitched and choked off, like she can’t quite force it out. 

“What’s wrong, love?” 

She feels Daisy shrug, and then blow out a shaky breath. “I was so scared it was going to be one of you. To die. Is that awful? I mean I didn’t want it to be anybody but I- I was so scared-“ 

“Hey, everyone’s fine,” Fitz assures her. “We all made it back. Everyone’s okay.” 

“I can’t lose you two. I just- I can’t.” 

“We’re not going anywhere,” Jemma tells her, squeezing closer, and knows that it isn’t a promise she can keep. But Daisy knows, too. Knows what it really means. That it might happen, but it’ll be a fight. That they’ll have to tear them away clawing and deadly. 

“Yeah, there’s so much science we have left to teach you,” Fitz says, and Daisy laughs against his neck. “We wouldn’t just leave you all sad and uneducated.” 

“I could learn science from Lincoln,” Daisy argues, sounding glad for the distraction.

“Lincoln?” Jemma scoffs. “He only has one doctorate, what does he know?” 

“You’ll have to take that up with him.” There’s a pause, and then Daisy sniffles again, a whine squeezing out of her throat. 

“I know you’re not okay,” Jemma murmurs, “and you don’t have to be. But how are you doing right now? How do you feel?” 

“Well.” Daisy’s voice breaks on the word, and she stops, trying to compose herself. “I’m either really sad or I’m having a heart attack.” 

Jemma lets out a little “oh” and then extracts herself from the hug. Daisy reaches back to grab for her but she’s already fishing a little pill bottle out of her bag, popping it open and shaking a round blue pill into her palm. “Okay, come here, take this with some water.” 

“What is it?” Daisy asks, but she doesn’t seem question that Jemma has only the best of intentions for her, even after everything she’s been through, because she takes the pill and immediately swallows it down. Jemma recognizes the trust and feels a rush of affection swell through her. 

“Dopamine agonist?” Fitz guesses, and Jemma nods. 

Daisy just gives them a blank look, so Jemma continues. “I did say Hive’s powers were like a drug—some of what you’re feeling is the process of withdrawal. This will help ease you down. It might make you a little drowsy, too, but you need the rest.” 

“Okay,” Daisy says, and then wraps her arms around herself. 

Jemma lays a hand on her arm. “Why don’t you go ahead and get back in bed?” 

“Will you stay?” 

“Yes,” Jemma nods, “I’m staying.” 

Daisy looks at Fitz, and he scratches at the back of his head. “I kind of need to get this tac suit off first. And I’m all sweaty.” 

“Go take a shower,” Jemma says, waving him off. “We’ll be in here.” 

Fitz heads out, and Jemma lays back on the bed, holding her arms out. Daisy lets out a grateful sigh and buries herself against Jemma’s side, head on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her waist, legs tangled together. Jemma squeezes her hard and plants a kiss against her forehead, and then two more for good measure. 

“I was scared too,” Jemma admits, and then clears her throat, blinking harshly. “That we wouldn’t be able to get you back.” 

“That was the best I’ve ever felt.” Daisy huffs a dry laugh. “And now I just feel like shit. Isn’t that awful?” 

“It is,” Jemma agrees. 

“And I- God it’s so stupid. I felt like I had a family.” 

“That’s not stupid.” 

“No, it is.” Daisy presses closer. “Because I do have one. He just made me forget that.” 

Jemma sighs. “Well we won’t let you forget again. We’re very insistent.” 

She feels a nod against her shoulder. “I won’t mind. You know, the reminders.” 

“Well you’ll get them. How many is good? Four, maybe five times a day? I’m am punctual, you know. Five A.M., on the dot, that’ll be your first one.” 

Daisy chuckles. “Maybe another at breakfast?”

“Of course. We’ll make breakfast together. Families do that sort of thing.” 

“I can’t cook.” 

“I’ll make the pancakes and you can decorate them.” 

“With faces?”

“Anything you want. As long as Fitz’s has a monkey.” 

“I can do that.” Daisy draws in a deep breath, holds in, then lets it out slow. Jemma draws patterns on her back with the tips of her fingers. 

“And definitely a reminder before you go to bed,” Jemma says, voice quiet. “Come tuck you in and everything.” 

“I’d like that,” she says, sounding choked, and then grips Jemma a little tighter. Jemma just keeps drawing patters—the chemical structures of neurotransmitters—on her back until her breath evens back out. 

Fitz wanders back in a few minutes later, a fast shower even for his standards, clad in pajamas and holding a wad of them in his hands. He smiles at them from the doorway for a few seconds before speaking. “I got a change for you both if you want them.” 

“But then we have to move,” Jemma pouts. 

“Well, you’ll have to move anyway, there’s no room for me in these tiny beds.” 

“You can sleep at the foot.” 

Daisy laughs, moving to wipe away tears that Jemma hadn’t realized had fallen. “We can go to my room.” 

“You’re supposed to be being monitored. Hence the med bay,” Jemma says, rubbing off a tear with her thumb that Daisy had missed.

“Also your room is a pigsty,” Fitz adds. 

“Your room is just as bad,” Daisy shoots back. 

“True. Jemma’s room then?” 

“She needs monitoring, Fitz.” 

“We can monitor her in there.” 

They both turn to her with wide eyes, Daisy throwing in a very convincing lip wobble, and Jemma sighs exaggeratedly. “Oh fine. You two really can’t team up on me, it’s not fair.” 

Fitz grins, and Daisy pulls herself out of the bed to give him a high five. 

Daisy’s fists clench every time they turn a corner on their way to the room, so Jemma walks closer to her, practically bumping shoulders, which seems to take the edge off at least a little. Daisy rips off the starchy gown almost as soon as the door is closed, and Fitz turns to face the wall as they both change, the tips of his ears pink. 

A wide yawn splits Daisy’s face, and she makes her way under the covers of Jemma’s bed. Fitz climbs over her to get on the other side, exhaustion from the mission playing clearly across his shoulders. Jemma busies herself around the room, tidying up things that don’t really need tidying, because she’s always more emotional at night and she feels like if she gets into bed with the both of them right now she might start crying. And Daisy, especially, doesn’t need that. 

She turns back to find Daisy watching her drowsily, Fitz already half asleep beside her. “Close your eyes, Daisy,” she whispers. 

“S’too quiet,” Daisy admits. 

“Oh.” Jemma has gotten into the habit of sleeping in silence. She can’t relax if she can’t hear what’s going on. She could play something on her phone, maybe, until Daisy falls asleep. Her eyes fall to her shelf. “I could read?” 

Daisy grips the comforter, looking more hesitant than she had since they’d gotten her back. “Would you?” 

Jemma nods, crouching beside it to scan the non-acedemic books. “Something you know or something new?” 

A hum. “Something I know?” 

“Tollbooth,” Fitz mumbles, and Daisy nods, so Jemma plucks it from the shelf. 

Daisy jams her face against Jemma’s hipbone after she settles against the headboard, one arm slinging over her lap. Fitz turns to scoot closer to Daisy, nose buried in her neck. Jemma clears her throat, rests her hand on Daisy’s hair. 

“The Phantom Tollbooth, by Norton Juster. Chapter one, Milo. There was once a boy named Milo who didn’t know what to do with himself—not just sometimes, but always.”


End file.
